Where Are You, Christmas?
by sheepish123
Summary: Amanda and Olivia find themselves drowning their sorrows at the same bar on Christmas Eve, and that old saying "misery loves company" proves to be true as they unexpectedly begin to bond over their shared loneliness and mutual sadness. Sometimes all you need for Christmas is a friend. One-shot. Amanda/Olivia friendship.


**Hello there, fellow fanfic readers and writers. :) I'm not quite sure where this idea came from, since I wasn't intending on doing an angsty Christmas fic, and I'm working on two other stories right now, chapter 21 of "Don't Let Go" and the first chapter of "Only the Lonely" (which is also a Christmas story, but is actually light and happy, unlike this one, lol) but I guess I just felt like taking a break to work on something different. This story takes place in season 18, although Noah, Jesse, and Frannie don't exist, and the events of 18x04 "Heightened Emotions" never happened, so Amanda's sister is not living with her and remains in prison.  
**

xxx

 _"Where are you Christmas  
_

 _Why can't I find you_

 _Why have you gone away_

 _Where is the laughter_

 _You used to bring me_

 _Why can't I hear music play_

 _Where are you Christmas_

 _Do you remember_

 _The one you used to know_

 _I'm not the same one_

 _See what the time's done_

 _Is that why you have let me go."_

xxx

Amanda Rollins raises the shot glass to her lips and throws it back with a well-practiced flick of her hand, letting the alcohol burn a fiery, comforting path down her throat, feeling it settle nicely into her system, creating a glowing warmth in her stomach that spreads quickly throughout her entire body. She has lost count of how many shots she has consumed over the past little while, and plunks the glass back down onto the slick surface of the bar with more force than she had intended, catching the bartender's gaze while gesturing with an impatient hand for another. He rolls his eyes and holds up a finger, indicating that she needs to wait her turn, as he is completely swamped by happy Christmas revelers, the noise in the room practically deafening in its intensity, the obnoxious holiday music mingling together with dozens of loud conversations and shrieking laughter to create a continuous buzzing of annoying sound in Amanda's ears.

She sighs heavily and lets her head droop forward against her chest, feeling tired and defeated, the long work week catching up to her and leaving her limp with exhaustion and despair, even though it is Saturday and she has had the entire day off to lounge around her apartment and try to catch up on some rest. It is also Christmas Eve, so the relaxing, calm day she had planned for herself had not gone the way she had hoped it would, a strange hollow feeling residing inside her chest and a curious restlessness overtaking her limbs and causing her to flee her warm, comfortable home in the late hours of the evening, heading out into the bone-chilling cold to take refuge in one of the many bars packed with fellow New Yorkers and tourists alike.

Amanda had incorrectly assumed that she would not be the only one here drowning her sorrows in booze, clutching onto the edge of the bar and gripping her empty shot glass like they are her lifelines, the only things keeping her from slipping off the swivel stool and sliding to the floor in a sad, inebriated heap. She had just figured there would be more people like her occupying the other seats in this establishment, people who are alone, people with no family or friends to spend Christmas with, and that they would be united together in their shared misery and loathing of the holiday season, but apparently that assumption had been wrong. Everywhere Amanda looks, there is only happiness; energetic discussions, spontaneous bouts of joyful singing, explosive bursts of laughter, silly poses with friends for photos that they can one day look back on and remember with fondness.

She shakes her head and emits another heavy sigh, feeling like the weight of the world is sitting upon her shoulders and is physically pushing her down to slump against the bar, so she rests there with her chin in one hand and the other raising halfheartedly into the air again, desperate for another shot of liquor to ease her loneliness, but fully expecting to be ignored, just like the last time. The bartender seems to be doing his best to accomplish that, the cheerful Santa hat perched askew on his head clashing severely with the grouchy scowl on his face, not even sparing a glance in her direction, and Amanda sits there hunched up on her bar stool, glowering silently and swirling her finger repeatedly around the moist rim of the empty shot glass.

Her gaze roams slowly around the room as she waits for the bartender to finally grace her with his presence and attention, intent on finding someone as miserable and lonely as she herself is, knowing she can't be the only pathetic soul here tonight. Her eyes finally come to rest on a woman a little older than she is at the other end of the bar, gaze lingering on the familiar person for a long moment. The object of her intense scrutiny is hunched over in her seat much as Amanda herself is, cradling a bottle of beer in one hand and swiping her thick dark hair away from her face with the other, her obscured features coming into focus now.

Amanda's eyebrows fly up in surprise when she gets a good look at the woman and sees that it is none other than Olivia Benson, her boss at the precinct and a person that she shares quite a contentious working relationship with, seemingly ping-ponging back and forth between friends and enemies, but usually residing somewhere in the middle, in that murky grey area that has always confused her, never quite sure where she stands with her lieutenant. She has always wanted a good friendship with her boss, though; had craved it even before she had moved to New York several years ago, when Olivia Benson had just been this far-away, fascinating figure whose work she had eagerly followed online and in the newspapers, had looked up to and respected, a woman she had been so desperate to emulate, and a strange longing takes up residence inside of her chest as she stares at the other woman, heart clenching painfully as she observes her boss' obvious sadness.

After a moment of hesitation and brief contemplation, fully aware that she should just leave Olivia alone to her thoughts and her misery, but the alcohol giving her some bold liquid courage, she slides slowly off the bar stool, getting shakily to her feet, hoping her legs will support her for the short walk to the other side of the bar. Everyone seems to be packed like sardines inside the boiling hot room, and there are plenty of people to shove her way past in her attempt to reach Olivia, getting caught up amid the boisterous crowd a couple of times before struggling through again. By the time she arrives at the older woman's side, she is dizzy from the effort, the walls swaying alarmingly in her vision, a light sweat breaking out along her hairline, and for a terrifying instant she is entirely convinced that instead of just saying a polite hello whenever the other woman turns around to acknowledge her, she is actually going to lean over and vomit right into Olivia's lap by way of a greeting.

Thankfully the intense urge to throw up the impressive amount of alcohol she has consumed within a very short period time fades away as quickly as it had arrived, and she is able to utter a quick "hello" without her voice trembling too much when she speaks. Olivia doesn't react at all to her presence, Amanda's voice lost in the din of the crowd, the older woman keeping her back turned and continuing to stare dejectedly down into her empty bottle of beer, likely also waiting for the bartender to make his way back over to replace it with a full drink, or perhaps wishing that the bottle would spontaneously replenish itself. When the other woman still doesn't respond after another more insistent, louder "hello", Amanda puts her hands on the stool and physically swivels Olivia around so that they are face to face now, a befuddled expression crossing her boss' tired features when she finally notices Amanda standing there in front of her.

"Hey, Rollins, what brings you here?" the other woman asks, voice slurring slightly, and Amanda's lip turns up at the corner, subtle amusement mixing in with her concern at Olivia's obvious inebriation, never having witnessed her lieutenant drunk before.

"I'm guessing I'm here for the same reason you are," Amanda smirks, eyebrow quirking up bitterly in response. "To get completely shitfaced and forget that it's the most depressing time of the year."

Olivia sputters out a laugh, tilting her head up and fixing glassy dark eyes upon her. "I don't think that's how the song goes," she admonishes lightly. "Doesn't it have something to do with it being the most wonderful time of the year?"

Amanda snorts in contempt and leans an elbow against the bar, the thick crowd of people swarming tightly around them and pushing her body to press against Olivia's, the other woman reaching up to place a shaky hand on her arm so she doesn't fall over. "What's so damn wonderful about it?" she sneers.

Her boss gives a loud, ungraceful hiccup and then shrugs dramatically with her hands raised in the air, the gesture greatly exaggerated in her boozy state and causing Amanda's smile to widen at the uncharacteristically silly behavior. "Who the hell knows?" Olivia mumbles drunkenly. "It's the worst time of the year, in my opinion."

"Yeah, mine too," Amanda concurs vehemently, Olivia smiling back at her now, and she can't remember the last time they had been in such easy agreement on anything, had actually shared an opinion on something, their conversations usually leading to heated arguments more often than not.

"Do you want to sit down?" the older woman asks, gesturing vaguely into the air, and Amanda smirks again, glancing from side to side, no available seats anywhere in the entire room, much less one right next to Olivia.

"Where?" she replies with a laugh, one eyebrow arching in question. "In your lap?"

"Sure, why not?" her boss answers with a grin, and Amanda just shakes her head in surprise, another laugh bursting from her lips, that amusement and concern still mingling together as she observes how drunk the other woman is, Olivia likely having matched Amanda drink for drink that evening.

"Rollins, what are you doing here?" Olivia asks, brows wrinkling in confusion, hazy dark eyes fixed on her with interest and what looks to be a tinge of worry. "Why didn't you go home for Christmas? Why aren't you spending the holidays with your family?"

"Why would I do that?" Amanda replies, unable to keep the bitterness from creeping back into her tone again, gaze sliding away from the older woman. "My sister is still in prison and my mom barely speaks to me. She wouldn't want me there, even if I did go home. I'm pretty sure I'm not welcome."

She keeps her head turned slightly to the side, not meeting Olivia's eyes, but she feels the other woman's hand on her arm, squeezing gently. "What about you?" she murmurs, not in the mood to talk about her broken family and the fact that they want nothing to do with her, as this is the main reason she is pounding down shot after shot of booze alone on Christmas Eve, desperate to just forget everyone and everything for the night.

When there is no response, she glances back at her boss, and this time it is Olivia's gaze that is sliding away from hers. "It's just me," the older woman whispers, and Amanda has to lean forward to try to catch her lowered voice over the cacophonous noise of the crowd. "I don't have anyone."

Amanda frowns, feeling a slight tear in her chest at the other woman's mournful words, at her apparent confession of a break up, and she wants to be of some comfort somehow, wants to soothe her boss' pain, but is not sure how. "What do you mean, it's just you?" she questions softly, this time the one who is confused. "I thought you and Tucker-"

"We're not," Olivia interrupts, holding up a somewhat wobbly hand, obviously intending for Amanda to stop with this line of conversation. "He's not in the picture anymore."

"Okay..." Amanda trails off and sucks her lower lip into her mouth, the discussion suddenly turning awkward, and she is tempted to ask for details, curious to know what has happened, and is proud of herself for refraining, not wanting to cause Olivia anymore hurt or pain.

"I don't want to talk about it," Olivia continues adamantly, the slur in her tone more pronounced now that she is speaking somewhat vigorously, a hint of anger lacing her words.

"Okay," Amanda repeats softly, holding her hands up in front of her as if in surrender. "We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, Liv. I'm just sorry you seem to be having as rough of a night as I am."

"He broke up with me," the older woman says sorrowfully, completely contradicting what she has just said, her head drooping down to press lightly against the top of her empty beer bottle.

Amanda stares at her in silence for a moment, completely stunned by this uncoerced admission, as she and her boss have never shared much in the way of their private lives with each other, and she figures the alcohol must be doing quite a number on Olivia for the other woman to actually admit this to her. "Liv, I'm so sorry," she murmurs, reaching over to gently pry Olivia's head away from the bottle of beer, her lips twitching with faint amusement at the moist imprint of a bottle ring now embedded in the older woman's forehead.

Amanda realizes that she should drop this line of discussion, should steer Olivia away to lighter topics, to something more pleasant, and that the older woman might not be too impressed by this conversation when she sobers up and it registers just how personal this little chat between them has been, but the alcohol coursing steadily through her system will not allow her to let go of the topic entirely. She speaks again before she can stop herself, stunned at the audacity and stupidity of Tucker, not sure who in their right mind would actually break up with Olivia Benson, and she feels a swell of her own anger and sorrow on the other woman's behalf.

"He's an idiot, Liv," she finds herself muttering, feeling a certain solidarity with her boss now that they are both drunk and miserable and alone on Christmas Eve, and she wants to show the other woman that she understands her angst and torment, that she knows just how hard it is to be alone during the holiday season, and that it's not her fault that some asshole chose to dump her at the worst possible time of year. She wants to be articulate with her words, needs Olivia to know that she is on her side and is there for her in her time of need, choosing to put someone else's heartache before her own, but when she finally speaks, her speech is slurred and silly, and she sounds more like a drunken teenager than a professional woman in her mid-thirties.

"Stupid Tucker...he's such a fucker..." she rambles, voice dead serious as she looks Olivia in the eye, wincing inwardly as that had not been what she had meant to say at all, wishing to eloquently express that the older woman was better off on her own if some moron couldn't appreciate what he had with her; but the short, broken sentence that falls out of her mouth is ridiculous and juvenile.

The other woman stares at her in silence for a moment, brow wrinkling as if confused by Amanda's words, or in such deep thought that it hurts to think so hard while this inebriated, but then a slow, appreciative grin spreads across her face and something between a chuckle and a snort emits from between her lips. "Hey, Rollins, you rhymed," Olivia laughs, and Amanda frowns back at her, not understanding what she means for a moment, and when it finally clicks in, she joins in the laughter.

"Oh yeah, I guess I did," Amanda snickers. "Tucker _is_ a fucker." She and her boss have locked eyes again, the shared mirth and sadness and that dash of immaturity stretching out between them and combining to create an odd mix of emotions, and she finds herself placing a hand over Olivia's and squeezing comfortingly. "Hey, do you want to get out of here? Maybe we can go somewhere else. Somewhere the bartender doesn't hate me," she adds with another snicker, proving her point as the grouchy man in the Santa hat suddenly fixes her with a glare as if he knows they are talking about him, turning away with a full bottle of liquor in his grasp, a suspiciously triumphant gleam in his eye, as it is the exact kind that Amanda had wanted a refill on.

"Sure," Olivia replies, and Amanda is surprised at the eager enthusiasm in the older woman's tone, her boss shockingly wanting to spend more time with her. "We can find another bar."

Olivia attempts to slide off her stool on shaky legs, and stumbles dramatically while trying to stand up, Amanda reacting quite quickly in her own inebriated state, reaching out to catch Olivia before she falls to the floor, almost falling herself as the full weight of her boss lands in her arms and they dip theatrically toward the ground, as if preforming some kind of dance, coming perilously close to smacking face first into the hard tiles and catching themselves just in time, a round of spontaneous applause breaking out at their silly antics.

"Uh, maybe we've had enough," Amanda laughs, both amused and embarrassed by the sudden attention of almost everyone in the crowd focused directly upon them, and she realizes that she is just as shaky on her feet as Olivia is. "Maybe we should just get some fresh air and try to sober up a bit, instead of finding another bar."

"Yeah, maybe you're right," the older woman giggles as they make their way out of the building together, arm in arm so neither of them risks falling again and actually hitting the floor this time, a scattering of applause following in their wake, and Amanda thinks how strange and heartwarming it is to hear Olivia Benson giggle.

It takes them a few minutes to push their way through the thick, jolly crowd of equally inebriated bar patrons, and out into the freezing cold, snowy night. The sharp frigid air is a complete shock to the system after the sauna-like environment of the bar, and it feels like a stinging slap to Amanda's face as she and Olivia help each other down the stairs and shuffle over to the alleyway, huddling close to each other in the dark for warmth.

Amanda finds herself sobering up a bit as they stand there in the dirty slush, the conversation having ground to a complete halt now that they are not surrounded by loud, drunk strangers, and she is at a sudden loss for words; needs to somehow keep the discussion going, wants to find somewhere else that they can go so the evening doesn't end so soon, so she doesn't have to go back to her lonely, empty apartment, and she racks her brains, trying to think of anything else they can do at this late hour on Christmas Eve.

"God, it's absolutely freezing out here," Olivia mutters, shifting from foot to foot and rubbing her hands together in an effort to keep warm. "I'm really tired and it's getting pretty late. Maybe we should just call it a night." Amanda glances at the older woman to see Olivia fixing her with a lopsided smile. "Merry Christmas, Rollins. I'm glad I ran into you tonight."

"Yeah, me too," Amanda mumbles in disappointment, horrified to suddenly find herself on the verge of tears, the thought of being separated from her boss causing a sharp spike of pain in her chest, and she swallows hard, determined not to let her emotions show. "Merry Christmas, Liv." She tries to infuse her voice with some enthusiasm, some inflection of happiness, but her tone is flat and dejected, and she bites down hard on her lower lip to stop the tide of tears that are rising to the surface.

"Hey, are you okay?" Olivia asks in concern, and Amanda resists the urge to roll her eyes at her boss' ability to read people so well, even while completely wasted, the older woman's skills just as sharp as ever. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Amanda murmurs, turning away from the taller woman quickly, winter boots pivoting on the slick ice as she tries to avoid her boss' questioning look, realizing that they really do need to go their separate ways before all of the emotions buried inside of her coming bursting out in a messy, embarrassing explosion of sobs.

"Rollins..." Olivia's voice trails off hesitantly and she clears her throat. " _Amanda_ ," she corrects quickly, as if trying to establish a closer, more intimate connection between them. "Can you turn around and look at me, please?"

"No," Amanda whimpers in response, wincing at the sad, pathetic note in her tone, and feeling like the alcohol has turned on her now, is working against her; the booze only exacerbating the lonely emptiness of her life, making her that much more aware of what she lacks in the way of family and friends, instead of allowing her to bury the overwhelming emotions like it usually does.

"Why not?" Olivia asks softly, and Amanda feels the older woman's hand on her shoulder, fingers squeezing comfortingly.

"Because-" she chokes out, swallowing hard and blinking rapidly against the tidal wave of tears that are about to gush from her eyes, knowing she won't be able to suppress them for much longer. "Because I'm going to start crying."

"It's okay," Olivia replies quietly, her grip on Amanda's shoulder tightening. "It's okay to cry."

"No, it's not," Amanda argues, biting her lip as a sneaky tear slips from her eyes and rolls slowly down her cheek. "It's embarrassing; I can't cry in front of my boss." She hiccups loudly, unsuccessfully trying to hold back another tear. "I'm supposed to be this badass detective, not some whiny little bitch who can't keep myself together just because I'm alone at Christmas."

She hears the other woman chuckle behind her, the sound soft and tinkling, and somehow soothing instead of mocking. "You _are_ a badass detective," Olivia assures her gently, and Amanda can feel both of the older woman's hands clutching onto her shoulders now, urging her to turn around. "And if it makes you feel any better, _I_ was the whiny little bitch who couldn't stop crying earlier tonight. That's why I came here. So I wasn't sitting in my apartment, bawling my eyes out all by myself."

Amanda whirls around at this unexpected admission, her eyebrows raising in surprise even as another tear trails down her cheek, and she takes in the sympathetic, knowing expression on the older woman's face, she and Olivia staring intently at one another for a long moment, gazes locked together, seemingly united in their shared pain and grief of spending the holiday season alone. "You're not a whiny little bitch, Liv," she whispers, blinking hard as surprise spikes through her once again, Olivia leaning forward to gently swipe the tear off her cheek with the pad of a thumb, smiling tenderly at her in response.

This is all it takes for Amanda to dissolve into sobs, face crumbling in despair and hands flying up to cover her eyes, that wave of embarrassment and shame washing over her again, but she is unable to control the variety of emotions bursting forth from inside, so she just gives in and lets them go. An instant later she is being wrapped up firmly in Olivia's warm embrace, the other woman guiding Amanda's head down to her shoulder with one hand, fingers stroking soothingly through her long blonde locks, the other hand smoothing up and down her back, sliding against the slippery material of her heavy winter jacket.

This is not how she had expected this night to go, had not anticipated spending Christmas Eve wrapped up in her boss' arms in a dank, dark alleyway outside of a dingy bar, sobbing uncontrollably into the older woman's shoulder, her tears soaking into Olivia's thick woolen coat, the other woman clutching her back just as hard now, grip surprisingly strong and solid for someone who has likely consumed as much alcohol as Amanda herself has. She wonders if Olivia is crying as well, sure that she can detect a hint of moisture against her bare neck, the other woman's face pressed into a patch of skin between her hair and jacket, and she brings an arm up to lightly caress through the older woman's hair, wanting to give the same comfort that she is currently receiving.

They hold onto each other tightly for several minutes, Amanda continuing to cry, and the longer they stand there, the more she finds that she does not want to pull away, the sharp shame and embarrassment fading somewhat to be replaced by the comforting sense of no longer being alone, of having someone to share this terrible night with, a companion to lean on in her time of need. When she feels Olivia begin to step back from the embrace, the grip she has around the older woman tightens again, not ready to let go just yet, and she feels her boss' arms clasping harder around her in response, Olivia apparently changing her mind and not wanting to let go of Amanda either.

"Liv, I don't want to be alone," she sobs against the other woman's hair, the confession tumbling from her lips before she can stop it. "Please don't make me go home to my empty apartment. I can't take it, I really can't."

"Okay, so come to my place, then," Olivia says softly into her ear, and Amanda pulls back slightly, their arms still wrapped around each other, and fixes the older woman with a teary, disbelieving gaze.

"Really?" she whispers incredulously, a sudden hope blooming inside her chest that she won't have to spend the rest of this wretched night all by herself, that someone else will actually be there when the clock strikes midnight and it is officially Christmas Day.

"Yes, really," Olivia replies gently, dark eyes radiating kindness and understanding, even through the haze of alcohol, and she reaches out to swipe a lock of Amanda's long hair over her shoulder. "Come on, it's not that far. It's so busy here and I don't think we're very likely to get a cab, so we might as well start walking."

Amanda stares at her in silence for a moment, as if unable to discern whether or not the older woman is telling the truth and does indeed want to spend more time with her, but when Olivia just gazes back at her with that honest, empathetic expression, lips quirking up in an encouraging smile, she finds herself smiling hesitantly back and reaching out with trembling fingers to take hold of the welcoming hand that older woman is holding out to her. They begin their trek to Olivia's apartment in companionable quiet, at first walking hand in hand, and then arm in arm, bodies pressed tightly together for warmth and to keep each other from falling on the slippery surface of the slushy ice.

It takes quite a bit longer than they had originally anticipated to make it to Olivia's apartment, the combination of frigid winter winds and snowy sidewalks and alcohol consumption doing an impressive job of slowing them down, as well as Olivia's misjudgment of the actual distance between the bar and her building, apparently guessing in her inebriated state that it would be a much shorter walk. By the time they make it to their destination, they are shuddering violently with cold, fingers and toes completely numb, and a light tinge of blue ringing their lips, although Amanda feels considerably more sober now, a slight headache starting to creep up from the base of her skull.

They shed their heavy coats and boots at the door, and Amanda is deeply touched when Olivia immediately pushes her over to the couch and sits her down on the soft cushions, tucking a fleecy red blanket around her and marching into the kitchen to prepare steaming cups of hot chocolate. While the older woman is busy in the next room, dishes clinking loudly and a muttered string of curse words piercing the air when it sounds as if a mug has fallen from the counter and crashed to the floor, Amanda finds herself gaping in stunned silence at what she sees before her.

The entire living room is beautifully decorated for the holidays, the attention to detail quite obvious; a giant Christmas tree standing at attention in the corner, glowing with strings of tiny colored lights and brightly painted bulbs, garlands and bows draped over the entertainment center, and a large stuffed Santa Claus propped up near the door, flanked by a couple of smaller stuffed snowmen. Amanda's jaw is open in astonishment and she fixes Olivia with a somewhat accusing look as the other woman enters the room with a big cup of hot chocolate in each hand, steam billowing from the rims.

"Liv, what the hell is going on here?" she asks in confusion, gratefully accepting the piping hot mug from her boss as Olivia sits down beside her, tucking herself beneath the same blanket as Amanda, and shifting closer so that they are snuggled side by side underneath the comforting warm fleece. "I thought we were united in anti-Christmas solidarity," she adds, taking a tentative sip of the delicious drink. "Then I walk in here to find that Christmas has apparently thrown up all over your entire living room. I feel kind of betrayed."

Olivia looks over at her and bursts out laughing. "What, I like the decorations, okay?" she admits, and there is a hint of guilt in her expression as she raises the mug of hot chocolate to her lips. "I thought it would be nice to come home to something beautiful after our long days of working in a place that doesn't contain much beauty."

"So you come home from work to sit all alone in front of your Christmas tree?" Amanda replies softly, frowning in puzzlement. "That's kind of sad, Liv. Wouldn't it be better to just not decorate at all?" She thinks of her own apartment, completely devoid of holiday cheer, looking just like it does every other day of the year, and she feels a twinge of uncertainty, not sure if her words ring true, as she privately admits that Olivia's place is actually quite beautiful and welcoming, the ambience very cozy and inviting.

"Well, I didn't decorate alone," Olivia whispers, tone of voice somewhat strained now. "Tucker and I did it together before we broke up. It was intended to be a shared experience, coming home after a long day and having someone to spend time with in front of the Christmas tree."

Amanda's heart aches as she listens to her boss speak, reaching out to place her mug of hot chocolate down on the end table and taking Olivia's hand into her own, lacing their fingers together and squeezing gently. "I'm really sorry, Liv."

"Thank you," Olivia replies quietly, giving her a squeeze back. "I didn't have the heart to take everything down after it happened. And it's just so pretty, all the sparkly lights and decorations. It's still a nice thing to come home to after work, even if I'm coming home alone now."

Amanda gives the older woman's hand another comforting squeeze. "It _is_ beautiful," she acknowledges, and then fixes the tree with a somewhat critical look. "There's only one problem, though."

"What's that?" Olivia asks.

"There are no gifts under this tree," she points out, gesturing to the empty space beneath the festive ornaments that are hanging down from the branches. "There's nothing for you to open on Christmas morning."

"It doesn't matter," Olivia murmurs, with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I don't need anything to open. I already got my Christmas present."

"You did?" Amanda asks, eyebrows raised in confusion as she looks around the room, not spotting anything that could be considered a gift. "Well, what is it?"

"You," Olivia states simply, staring at her with that piercing dark gaze, eyes appearing much clearer than they had before their long, chilly journey from the bar to the apartment.

"Huh?" Amanda frowns back at her, the perplexity growing. "Me? I'm your Christmas present? What are you talking about, Liv?"

The older woman shrugs, a slight smile playing at the corners of her lips now. "The only thing I wanted for Christmas was someone here with me; to not be all alone, and I got my wish. You're here. So you're my present."

Amanda is struck entirely mute, taking in this goofy, endearing admission, so completely out of character for her boss to say, and she remains speechless for a long moment. "Oh my god, Liv, that was _so_ cheesy," she finally snorts out, trying to keep things light between them so she doesn't burst into tears once again, but she can't help the wave of intense emotion that swells inside of her at the older woman's silly, heartwarming confession. "You're hilarious when you're drunk, you know that?"

"It wasn't meant to be hilarious," Olivia replies, fixing her with a hurt frown. "And I'm not that drunk anymore. I'm being serious, Amanda."

"Well, I'm a shitty present," Amanda mutters, swallowing hard against another very insistent wave of tears. "All you got for Christmas was your drunk, devastated subordinate who bawled her eyes out on your shoulder in a disgusting alley outside of an equally disgusting bar." She pauses briefly and smirks. "You may want to consider returning your gift for a cash refund or something."

Olivia smirks back at her. "Nope," she replies lightly. "No return necessary. I didn't expect to be spending Christmas with a friend, so I'm pretty happy about that."

"Well, there you go getting all sappy and ridiculous again," Amanda murmurs, rolling her eyes and then stopping short as the older woman's words penetrate. "Wait a minute, did you just call me your _friend_?" she asks in amazement. "We're friends now?"

Olivia cocks her head to the side, regarding her with a hint of confusion, a gentle smile playing at her lips. "Yes, of course we are, Amanda. Haven't we always been friends?"

"Um...no?" Amanda answers truthfully, hesitation and trepidation coursing through her now as she sees a frown replace Olivia's smile, the corner of the older woman's lip turning down.

"Well, I've always considered us friends," Olivia answers quietly. "I know I don't always show it, but you are my friend, Amanda."

"Oh," Amanda replies softly, a tinge of awe in her tone, feeling an immense amount of affection for her boss, but not knowing what else to say, and she bites down hard on the inside of her cheek to stop the tears that are welling up in her eyes yet again, one of them breaking free and rolling down her cheek. "Well, I guess I got what I wanted for Christmas too, then."

"Good," Olivia whispers, the smile back on her face now, and she untangles their hands to wipe away Amanda's tear before wrapping an arm around her shoulders, tugging her closer underneath the blanket. "I'm glad you got what you wanted."

Amanda smiles back at the older woman, laying her head against Olivia's shoulder, and they sit there together in companionable silence for several minutes, the glowing lights of the tree and the snow falling softly outside the window creating a lovely, comforting atmosphere. For the first time that she can remember, Amanda actually feels a tinge of the Christmas spirit, a grateful joy taking up residence inside her soul, and she snuggles closer to Olivia, sliding an arm around her boss' waist and giving her a slight squeeze.

"Merry Christmas, Liv," she says softly. She feels Olivia give her a gentle squeeze in return and smiles again when she hears the other woman's response.

"Merry Christmas, Amanda."

xxx

 _"I feel you Christmas_

 _I know I've found you_

 _You never fade away..."_

xxx

 ** _*Song lyrics are from Faith Hill's "Where Are You, Christmas?"_**


End file.
